


my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

by callabang, manybumblebees



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Impure thoughts about gluten, M/M, No nut november, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Philadelphia Flyers, migraines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callabang/pseuds/callabang, https://archiveofourown.org/users/manybumblebees/pseuds/manybumblebees
Summary: Patty tries a lot of shit to help with his migraines, but TK still isn't expecting to hear that he’s doing a “chastity cleanse” because Tazer said it would help him to “reset his mind.”
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 66
Kudos: 475





	my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

**Author's Note:**

> happy 100 fics in the tk/nolan tag, this was MOSTLY a blur.

Patty tries a lot of shit to help with his migraines. There’s the meds the docs prescribe him, obviously, half a dozen different combinations and dosages just in the few weeks TK’s been around for, but that’s just the start of it. Apparently half the battle with migraines is figuring out the stuff that triggers them, but it’s different for everyone, so Patty starts experimenting.

Maybe “experimenting” isn’t the right word, because that sounds fun, and what Patty does is pretty much the opposite of that. He cuts down on caffeine, which doesn’t seem to do a whole lot other than make him even bitchier than normal in the mornings. Alcohol’s next, then fatty foods. TK’s not sure how cutting out anything that’s even remotely enjoyable is supposed to make Patty feel better, and he seems pretty miserable even when his brain isn’t actively hurting him. It’d be cool if he could cut out stuff he already hates, instead, like getting up early, or shaving, or letting TK know when he’s coming over.

Patty tries acupuncture, which seems whack, but at least he doesn’t make TK go with him to watch someone stick needles in his head, which TK’s grateful for. Next on the list is holistic massage, and TK doesn’t know what that is and feels stupid asking, but whatever it is doesn’t work, either, so it doesn’t matter.

One time he lets himself into Patty’s apartment and the place smells like his grandma’s house, and TK stands in the middle of the living room sniffing, trying to work out why.

“It’s lavender,” Patty says from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed, because meditation is another thing he’s trying. TK’s technically supposed to leave him alone while he’s doing that, but Pats is already unfolding his stupidly long legs and clambering to his feet.

“This sucks,” he announces, and TK doesn’t know if he means meditating, or like, the general migraine situation, but TK says, “Yeah, bro,” all the same. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with either, but they probably both suck, on like, different levels.

Half an hour later, TK has to drag him, basically insensate, to his room, and haul him onto the bed before shutting the blackout curtains, because it turns out one of Patty’s migraine triggers is strong smells. The more you know. He opens all the windows and throws the little bottle of lavender oil in the garbage, then takes out the trash.

Patty tries yoga, too, which TK only finds out about because when he lets himself into Patty’s apartment the next time, he’s treated to the sight of Patty, red-faced and groaning as he performs some kind of deep lunge. It makes TK’s mouth go dry for reasons he does not particularly want to consider. 

He cuts out gluten, and it’s kind of a pain in the ass, because instead of wandering down to Wawa to get him a soft pretzel, now TK has to drive to a gluten-free bakery to buy him a banana muffin that Patty bitches about because it tastes as bad as it looks, apparently. That only lasts until Pat finds out there’s gluten in soy sauce, and then he just never mentions it again, because even Patty has to draw the line somewhere, and he draws the line at giving up sushi.

Still, the gluten thing should’ve been TK’s first clue that Jonathan Toews is involved.

More clues follow. Patty stops eating dairy, then starts eating dairy again while he does the keto diet, then apparently realizes that the keto diet is crazy town and stops that as well. 

He buys a little notebook and starts journaling, looking aggrieved the entire time. When TK asks what exactly he’s journaling about, Patty just glowers and says he’s “practicing mindfulness,” whatever the hell that means. TK buys him some stickers and a couple of colored pens because he’s like, supportive.

TK steals his phone one time and finds twelve different podcasts downloaded. All of them have words like “optimize” and “actualization” and “mindset” in the title. Really, it’s TK’s fault for not buying a clue.

He doesn’t even catch on until Patty tells him, outright, which is frankly embarrassing. Although honestly, it’s more embarrassing for Patty, because what Patty tells him, mulish look on his face like he already knows he’s fucked up, is that he’s doing a “chastity cleanse” because Tazer said it would help him to “reset his mind.” He just throws that out there one evening, and if TK had been drinking something, he definitely would’ve choked on it, so at least Pat had the decency to time it well.

“You stopped jacking off because _Tazer _told you to? Is that like, what he’s into?”

TK’s mostly joking, but he still glances at Patty just to check. Just in case he’s like– he doesn’t want to think about it, actually.

Patty’s red, but he looks pissed more than embarrassed. “No, moron. He just– he said it really helped him, last year.” As he’s talking, Patty sort of slowly hinges at the waist, dropping his head between his knees, like he’s bracing himself for the enormous amount of shit TK’s gonna give him for this.

TK’s still debating whether to chirp him for it or let it slide, since Patty’s only just let himself have a beer and a cheeseburger for the first time in weeks, and now apparently he doesn’t get to _come_, and then it clicks: it’s like, the second. Maybe the third of the month. TK may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but, please.

“Dude– this is just No Nut November, right?”

“I guess,” Patty says tightly, avoiding eye contact.

Pat’s pretty desperate, so TK kind of gets why he’d be willing to try something like that. If TK’s long-time hockey idol told him not to jerk off for a month because it could potentially cure his debilitating migraines, he’d probably give it a shot, too.

It’s not TK’s fault he keeps thinking about it. It’s not like he’s dwelling, or anything. It’s just that sometimes when he’s jerking off — which he’s doing a lot, because it feels like he should be making some effort to, like, restore the cosmic balance of orgasms, or something — he’ll accidentally think about Patty, hard and leaking and not doing anything about it because Tazer told him not to. 

Like, fuck Tazer, obviously, but it is kind of hot to think of Patty doing what he’s told.

Pats has a migraine a week in, a big one that wipes him out for two whole days, and TK thinks that’s the end of it. That should be the end of it. Patty tried, it didn’t work, and now they can all move on with their lives – except for maybe Tazer, who’s probably on a lifetime chastity cleanse to atone for all the gluten he ate when he was younger, or whatever.

He asks Pat about it when he shows up at his apartment with food that night, unannounced, like he just knew TK would be sitting around by himself on the off chance that Patty would be feeling better. Just because he’s right doesn’t mean TK’s not offended for ten whole seconds.

“Are you still like, on the wagon? With your whole– thing,” he says, painfully vague because he can’t actually make himself be more specific.

Patty’s voice goes gravelly, a tone which reliably indicates that he’s not in the mood for TK’s shit. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” TK says, because he really thought Patty would give this up like he gave up the gluten thing. “Still? It’s not working.”

“Jonny said it might take a bit to reach equilibrium,” Patty says, speaking directly into his takeout. 

_Jonny, _TK thinks. _What a prick._

So Patty keeps going, and that means he’s unbearably horny after, like, a week, just popping boners at the most awkward times. TK politely pretends not to notice, even though Patty tenting his shorts pretty much becomes a feature of their game nights, and their movie nights, and all their other nights. Patty spends a lot of time on his couch now, even by their standards, probably because he’s too fucked-up horny to be seen in public.

One time, TK reaches over him to grab the remote off the arm of the couch because he has his mouth full of food and can’t be bothered to make himself understood, and his hand accidentally brushes Patty’s nipple, and even though it’s over the shirt, Pat flinches and goes red and immediately yanks a throw pillow into his lap.

Obviously, that means nothing, Patty’s just got a hair trigger right now, but TK can’t stop thinking about it. He gave Patty a boner. He barely even _touched _him.

It’s pretty hard not to do it again, after that. Maybe that’s not being a supportive friend, but it’s not like Pat’s fucking “chastity cleanse” is helping him. His migraines aren’t any better, which TK knows because it’s pretty obvious when Pat has to spend the whole day in bed instead of hanging out with him, and also because he’s read his journal. That’s definitely not being a supportive friend, but Pats should know better than to leave it lying out in the open.

It takes nothing: a friendly pat on the knee, a hand on the back of his neck and Patty’s squirming. By the end of the month, TK’s burning up with it. Every time he sees Patty go red or shift in his seat, all he can think about is the infuriating fact that Patty hasn’t jerked off in a month because Jonathan fucking Toews told him not to. 

That only partially explains why he does what he does.

They’re sitting on Patty’s couch, half-watching something dumb on his enormous television, and the heat is on way too high like it always is. Patty is a little pink in the face, and he has his hoodie tugged way down, which means he probably has a boner, from like, a light breeze passing over his dick, or something.

Patty shifts a little, and TK thinks about touching him. He could just reach over. Pat’s so on edge, it wouldn’t take much. Push a hand down his shorts, jack him off, see how red he gets when he comes. Show Jonny T who knows what’s good for Patty.

He’s staring, and Pat catches him doing it, and then his whole entire brain whites out and when he comes to, his face is, like, three inches away from Patty’s, and his hands are on Patty’s thighs. Pat’s still looking at him, almost daringly, one eyebrow quirked, and TK’s never backed down from a challenge.

He slips off the couch, nudges Patty’s legs apart so he can kneel between them, pushes his shorts up so he can get his hands back on Patty’s thighs. He spends a second just digging his fingers in, nails leaving little half-moon marks, and then a number of seconds sucking a row of bruises up the milky white skin. When he pulls back, Patty has his head tipped back, flushed down to his throat, panting lightly. 

Kind of cool that TK was the one to make him look like that.

TK pushes Patty’s hoodie up. If he wasn’t hard before, he definitely is now, and it’s tempting to pull the shorts down, get his dick out, see what noises he can get him to make, but TK wants to draw it out.

He’s leaning back in to get started on the other thigh when he feels Patty’s hands on him, pushing him away. For a minute TK feels almost numb. He envisions Patty asking him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but then Pats is staggering to his feet and dragging TK up with him.

“Bedroom,” he says throatily, and at first that sounds great to TK, so he lets himself be manhandled. Patty’s hand is big and hot on TK’s back, and his bottom lip is a little swollen, like he’d been biting it, and TK is totally, embarrassingly obsessed with him.

But then he catches sight of the clock, and then he realizes that it’s only 10, and then he realizes that if it’s only 10 it’s still, technically, November. 

He plants his feet, making Patty crash into his back and almost topple them both over. TK turns around. “What about your cleanse?”

“Fuck the cleanse, who cares,” Pat says. He’s like, really close. His hands are on TK’s hips now, and he looks like he might be about to kiss TK, which would be so awesome, but–

“_You_ care. You’re so close, dude.”

Patty drops his head onto TK’s shoulder and groans. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“You just gotta last like, two more hours,” TK says. He strokes his hand up Patty’s thigh, rucking up the shorts, and then, very slowly, runs his thumb up the length of his dick through the fabric. Patty whines into his neck. He’s slumped onto TK’s shoulder, though he’s definitely too fucking tall for that to be comfortable for him.

There’s already a little wet spot on the front of Patty’s shorts, and TK keeps rubbing his dick, reveling in the way it makes Patty shudder, how he’s leaning more and more of his weight on him until TK has to hold him up with an arm around his waist. Pat’s past complaining, but he’s still with it enough that he’s trying to muffle his needy noises into TK’s shoulder. He hasn’t come in so long.

“I can’t believe you lasted this long, Patty,” TK says, and if he sounds a little awed, fuck it. A month is a long time. “When we roomed together–”

He catches himself, but not before Patty makes a fucked-out noise into his shoulder. TK keeps palming his dick, hopes Pat’s too far gone to make him finish that sentence. You don’t share a hotel room with someone for two years without knowing their like, schedule. That’s all.

Patty shifts, rocking against him. They should take this to the bedroom so TK can get him spread out on the bed. He can take Patty’s weight, but not forever. Not for two hours. TK’s about to suggest it when Pat starts mumbling, “Fuck– fuck, Teeks,” and his hands clench around TK’s hips.

“You close?” TK asks, pointlessly, given the way Patty’s pushing into his hand and panting. He swipes his thumb across the wet spot, making Patty jerk, and then pulls his hand away.

“Teeks–” Patty whines, which is so good, fuck, but TK grabs him by the wrists and disentangles himself. When he steps away, Patty’s flushed, he’s a fucking wreck. He can barely _stand_.

“It’s still November,” TK says, with more self-control than he’s ever had in his life.

Patty groans, almost defeated, fisting his hands in the material of his shorts to keep from touching himself. He’s so hard TK can see the outline of his dick through the fabric. 

“Can’t let Tazer down,” he adds.

“Don’t–” Pat grits out, and lifts his head. “I don’t fucking wanna think about Jonny right now.”

_Oh_, TK thinks. That’s good. That answers some questions. He crowds back in to kiss Patty, feels the plush wetness of his mouth as he presses Patty back against the wall. Patty kisses back, hungrily, choking a little when TK gives his dick another firm squeeze, and then lets TK drag him to the bedroom.

Patty starts to strip, clumsy with it, and practically collapses when TK finally tips him back onto the bed. TK straddles his thighs, leaning down to kiss him again, slow and dirty, before he grabs Patty’s hands where they rested, burning hot on TK’s hips, and raises them above Patty’s head on the mattress.

“Don’t touch, okay?” TK says, punctuating his words with a nip to Patty’s chin. “Two hours to go.” 

Patty is panting beneath him, but he nods jerkily and keeps his hands where TK put them.

The next hour and a half passes in a blur of heat and hands. TK slots his thigh between Patty’s, pins his wrists, and kisses him dirty while Patty grinds against him, pulls back when Pat starts sounding desperate. He sucks a blooming red mark into Patty’s neck to hear the way it makes him groan. Eventually, he squirms down the bed to pet delicately at Patty’s dick, licking softly across the head, until Patty’s so close he’s teary-eyed. He breathes over his wet dick, making him squirm, and then sits back, his hands on Patty’s thighs, thumbs pushing into the marks he left earlier.

The clock on the nightstand says 11:26.

“Almost there, Pats,” he says. “Half an hour.”

Patty moans brokenly. He’s slung an arm across his eyes, and TK takes his time enjoying the view, his long legs spread wide, bruises standing out against his pale skin, his flush creeping down his chest.

TK leans back over him to mouth messily at Patty’s dick, making him moan again, and keeps moving up until he’s braced over him, peeling his arm away from his face.

“You can come whenever you want, Patty.”

TK reaches down to loosely wrap a hand around Patty’s dick. It’d take next to nothing, after all that.

It’s quiet enough that he can hear Patty’s ragged breathing, can hear the sheets rustle when Patty lifts his arm to slide a hand into TK’s hair and pull him in for a kiss, sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Please,” Patty says against his mouth, and TK will probably remember that for the rest of his life, he’ll take that to his grave.

“Okay,” he says, like he was gonna say no, and tightens his hand around Patty’s dick, wet enough from his mouth and where Patty’s been leaking that it’s nice and slick. He lets Patty fuck into his fist, moaning into his mouth, and this time, he doesn’t stop when his movements become erratic and his hand clenches in TK’s hair.

“C’mon, Pat,” he says, tightening his grip a little, and Patty comes with a breathless whine, pink all the way down his chest. TK works him through it, until Patty is shivering a little, mouth working and eyes half-closed. He’s just, like, the best thing TK has ever seen, and TK gets himself off to the sight of Patty limp and sated under him.

Afterwards, he cleans them up half-heartedly and climbs in next to Patty on the bed, tucking him under his arm and ignoring the way his chest feels when Patty turns to bury his face in TK’s chest. 

“It’s still November, Patty.” he says. Patty mumbles something into his collarbone. It sounds like he’s mostly asleep. Maybe TK will text Tazer about it.

**Author's Note:**

> title from hozier's "no plan". find us on twitter: [callabang](https://twitter.com/callabang_) // [manybumblebees](https://twitter.com/manybumblebees).
> 
> podfic welcome, as long as it's archive-locked.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776583) by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine)


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